


Dark Skies Ahead

by Galacticspaceboi



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dark fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanisation, Drug Use, F/M, Forced Eye Contact, Gen, Human Trafficking, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sexual Content, Slavery, Torture, Venomcup, httyd 3, i guess, non con, that venomcup au, viggo makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-19 09:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galacticspaceboi/pseuds/Galacticspaceboi
Summary: With the Young Chief of Berk captured and on his knees, Grimmel feels he can indulge himself.(Or the one where Grimmel drugs Hiccup with venom to make him obedient)





	1. Breaking Dawn’s headress

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I saw that VenomCup AU by Lunarcrown: ( http://lunarcrown.tumblr.com/ )  
> and became obsesseddddddd so this is a dark little idea I had. Grimmel knows of Hiccup, but has never met him, and Hiccup has no clue who he is. 
> 
> The venom-y bits come later, lol. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment, and I’ll post the next chapter!

“Grimmel!”

He felt his eye twitch.

That voice. So...overly enthusiastic, _friendly,_ like they were old pals just catching up. He raised a brow in acknowledgment, keeping his face a stony mask. They weren’t here to chat, if the vial of Death Gripper poison between his fingers wasn’t enough of a hint. His crossbow was a heavy presence under his arm.

“You said you have an ‘interesting offer’ for me? I don’t see a dragon anywhere here. That cage there is far too… _flimsy_ to house anything that could be of use to me.”

The portly man’s face lit up into a grin, features twisting and eyes bulging. He was practically frothing at the mouth, hands gesturing wildly.

“Ah - but you see, dear Grimmel. This one is much more valuable than any lumbering beast.”

Grimmel bared his teeth. This was frustrating.

“Give me specifics. Species? Class? Age? I want to know the important things, Sullivan. I’m beginning to get... _restless_.”

His fingers scraped across his bow, eyes narrowed.

The man gulped.

“Well?”

He hesitated, smile growing a little uncomfortable.

“You see, dear Grimmel. It’s...not a Dragon at all. It’s a human.”

Now this _did_ get Grimmel’s attention.

“A human? What use would I have with a human, if, I...have Dragons?”

His tone was lighter, now. A touch.. humourous. His curiosity was piqued.

The armoured fool noticed the change in his demeanour, smile turning sharp and witty again.

“Well, dare I saw this is not just _any_ old human. It’s a special one. One that we’ve been told...holds great _importance_ to you.”

Grimmel’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, why don’t you take a look? It’s all yours, if we make the deal.”

Grimmel stepped forward to the small cage, covered with a sheet. There were no audible sounds coming from it. He also noticed with slight interest that the enthusiastic entrepreneur referred to the captured human as ‘It’, not ‘He’ or ‘She’. There was no telling who could be under the cloth.

He knelt down gracefully, reaching for the fabric, before glancing up.

“Just so we are, ah, completely clear: if I see something in here that I’m not...pleased with, there will be - devastating consequences.”

He tapped deliberately at his crossbow, and watched with smug satisfaction as the man gulped, hands clasping in front of himself. There was sweat beading on his forehead.

With that out of the way, he steeled his gaze, ripping back the cloth unceremoniously.

The body was folded into a kind of foetal position, curled up to accommodate the small size of the cage. With its back facing outwards, Grimmel could make out a pale, freckled complexion, and a sharp spine threatening to peek through the skin.

Rounding the cage, its face appeared to be male: strong jaw, thick eyebrows and long, shaggy hair scraped into haphazard braids, though parts had escaped during his transport and were now tousled across his forehead. His eyes were closed, asleep still, and his long, curly eyelashes rested against flushed cheeks.

Grimmel was confused, but more so, he was irritated.

“You _fool_.” He stood, to his full height, eyes narrowed and a snarl twisting his lips.

“You bring me all the way across the Archipelago, waste my time, all for a - a _rent_ _boy_? It seems you have misunderstood the _importance_ of my business. Perhaps I should remi-“

“ _No_! No, Grimmel, I haven’t misunderstood a thing! I- I just, it’s pretty common word, in the market, that you’d do _anything_ to get your hands on the-“

“Night Fury? Well, if you’d have payed attention, I _kill_ Night Furies. I hunt them, I don’t have them handed to me. All, except _one_ , who’s guarded by the idiotic, _eccentric_ -“

He paused, eyebrows quirking. He turned back to the cage, where the youthful figure stirred, a small noise escaping.

“Young Chief of Berk.” The man finished weakly.

Grimmel inhaled sharply, dropping to the floor. He peered through the metal bars into the darkness.

Stoic’s boy? Surely, not? He didn’t know the previous chief well enough to confirm that this was his son. He looked... _young_. Younger than he’d expected.

“Get him out. I’ll need to check his... _authenticity_.”

The lumbering man snapped to life.

“Ah, yes, Grimmel Sir. Right away.”

The man’s brutish hands none-too-gently manhandled the boy from the cage, unfurling his legs.

Well -

“Prosthetic leg. Interesting. Make a note of that.”

“S-Sir?”

He sighed, exasperated.

“If I’m going to purchase the boy, I will need his, how shall I say? Specifications, if you will.”

The boy gave a low groan in his sleep, head stirring on the hard ground, but did not wake.

His nude frame was lanky. He looked to be tall, not as tall as Grimmel himself, and _certainly_ not Stoic the Vast’s hulking 7ft, but nothing to scoff at.

His body, however, was slim, delicate. His shoulders were narrow, and his collarbones pronounced.

“Almost like a _girl’s_.” Grimmel mused aloud.

How could this _runt_ have a Night Fury?

He would have time to fully inspect his property. He just needed to be sure he wasn’t wasting his money.

Grimmel flipped the boy over (more gently than the bumbling fool. Waking him now would be most...troublesome.)

His eyes roamed down sharp shoulder blades, over his (heavily freckled) behind, and sure enough, on the back of his left thigh, the Chieftain tattoo was there.

He felt a laugh bubble from his throat.

“Chief Hiccup.”

 _This_ measly boy was leading a civilisation as advanced as Berk? For centuries, they had been thriving, under strong Chiefs with strong minds and even stronger arms.

Well, they weren’t advanced anymore.

They had an idiot boy with his head in the clouds, who believed Vikings and Dragons belonged in the same world.

Grimmel’s scars twinged at the thought. No, Dragons belonged at the feet of humans. Less than pets. Less than food. Utterly repulsive creatures in every single way, born to be conquered, slaughtered.

All of a sudden, a red film washed over his vision. He wanted to hurt this boy. So much that he _begged_ for salvation that would never come.

“How much?” He ground out.

The man looked _ecstatic_ , practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“2000, my dear Grimmel. A fair, discounted price for the ownership of Royalty.”

Grimmel looked at the boy. He looked at his small, slender hands, Carpenter’s hands, curled in front of his face as he slept on his side. He looked at his ribcage, fluttering like birds wings on every inhale and exhale. His single foot shifting, toes flexing. The hairs on his legs were standing up straight with the cold.

“He is _hardly_ royalty. You’d have better luck selling him as a - a _concubine_ for no more than 500. Sex trafficking is big round where you’re from, no?”

“Yes, Sir, very big. But, we wanted to be sure he was of no use to you before we stripped him of his title.”

Grimmel couldn’t stop the harsh scoff.

“What title? That tattoo on his body means nothing to me, not really. He is just a boy.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“However, you have impressed me. Slipping past Berk’s defences must have been quite the task. Stealing the Chief, from his own home, with a _Night_ _Fury_ guarding him? You really have outdone yourself.”

The man gave a pompous nod.

“Plus, a slave with no brain between his eyes is no fun at all. He may be small and weak, delusioned and idealistic, but there is no denying he is intelligent.”

He paused again.

“I’ll take him. 2500, for your troubles. But for that price, I want him properly packaged up. Send one of your men out to make sure you were not followed. Scrub his body, all of it, to get rid of a scent. I’d rather not be rudely interrupted on my way home, no?”

With that, he turned to leave.

“Y-yes Sir, right away. Anything else we can do to...make this more beneficial for you?”

Grimmel shook his head.

“That will be all. I’ll help myself to your wine, while I wait for you to package my new Dragon. Your gold will be on your table in, ahhh, three weeks, maybe two.”

He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Thank you, Sullivan. This has been most interesting.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Grimmel saw Hiccup, was around three hours later.

“Oh, my,” he said mildly, walking into the room. It was late now, the sun had long slipped past the foggy horizon.

Hiccup was on the floor, shoulders pinned back in what looked to be a ruthless arm binder. There was a thick collar around his throat, and his prosthetic was gone. His thighs were fastened together with strips of leather.

He was awake, now, green eyes tired, dazed, confused, yet so burningly _passionate_ that Grimmel raised his furrowed brow. He was drooling excessively around a muzzle.

Just like a real animal.

“Oh, look at _you_ ,” he breathed softly.

This pleased him, greatly. This was the man, the Tamer of Dragons. The Great Chief that was legendary already by some Tribes, despite his young age.

“I hope this is to your, ah, standards, Grimmel. You requested a proper packaging, did you not?”

“I did indeed. You have his details, his measurements?”

The man nodded.

“Good. Very good. I think I’m all ready to go, wouldn’t you say?”

Hiccup gave a sharp sound from the floor, flexing his shoulders in his bonds. Grimmel paid him no mind, instead gesturing to the door.

“Move him for me. Put him back in his cage.”

The Chief stayed silent as he was moved, eyes blinking rapidly, dazed, his lips spread around the bit in his mouth. It was utterly dehumanising, watching him drool all over himself; watching his soft cock move, _vulnerable_ , slapping against his restrained thighs as he was hoisted over the burly man’s shoulders and carried across the room.

Grimmel was jovial as he stalked over to the man.

“Hello there, Little Chief. Shall I call you _hiccup_ , hah, or shall I just say.. Hiccup?”

The boy struggled to look up at him, the collar restraining his moments, but did so anyway, eyes glowering. He struggled minutely.

“I’ve been very interested in you. For a while now. Ever since I caught the scent of your Night Fury, I’ve kept my tabs on you.”

Expressive eyes narrowed slightly, challenging, although he was _hardly_ anything threatening in this position, caged up like one of his own beasts.

“I knew we’d meet eventually, but if I’d have known you’d look like.. _this_ , I would have found you sooner, eh?”

Hiccup glowered, but his expression seemed less angry and feral, and more _wary_. He eyed the crossbow, tucked under Grimmel’s shoulder, the knife wedged in his belt.

“Thankfully, it seems as if, all is well. The universe has brought you here to me, wouldn’t you say?”

The Chief made an ugly gurgling sound, more saliva leaking out, covering his chin.

“Shh, shh, save your voice, Dearst Hiccup. We have much to...discuss later. There’s a lot of things I need to know from you.” The statement was laced with threat, the promise of pain.

“For now,” he crouched down, reaching through the bars of the locked cage, tugging a hand through his braided hair.

“Just allow me some time to _enjoy_ this.”

He smiled, as a dark flush bloomed it’s way across the man’s face, even spreading down his neck to his chest.

He watched him squirm a little, before retracting his hand reluctantly.

He’d have more time later. Lots and _lots_ of time.


	2. Thunder steals your warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimmel talks to Hiccup. It goes pretty much to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes bois we are back again with another chapter  
> i love all of you   
> <3

Unfortunately, Grimmel did not get to see his new...asset, for another few days. He was too busy. Dragon trapping was an arduous, consuming business that was not to be taken lightly, and there was much to be done. Approaching spring, many species would be laying their eggs, ready to hatch next winter.

 

That meant, they were vulnerable.

 

Rushing was not his style, and he didn’t want to have to talk to the boy in small fragmented sessions. He needed time, to coax the information he needed from him.

 

If he didn’t comply...well, there were quite a few routes he could take. He was in mild contact with a Mr Viggo Grimborn, and many others who would love to get their hands on Stoic’s delicate little runt, some, for more perverted reasons. Once he had thoughtly _broken him in,_ so to speak, he could be passed along, from Viking to Viking, used as they saw fit.

 

And what fun that would be. He could rent him out, for an hour, maybe an evening. He could make a pretty penny.

 

Then again, there was the - _other_ option. He ran his fingers over the vial of Death Gripper venom. He always liked to carry it on him, just for the security that he could have a dragon grovelling at his knees with in seconds. It worked a treat on the beasts, but he’d never tried it on a human; that was more risky. If his body reacted positively with the venom, Grimmel would have his own valuable asset, perfectly compliant and _submissive_ in every way.

 

If, however, there was an...adverse reaction, there was no telling what it could do to him. Worse case scenario, it killed him, in which case he was eliminated as a threat. But would that be wasting a perfect opportunity? The promise of more wealth, of information? The chance to wrap his hands around that last Night Fury’s neck and _squeeze?_

 

And Hiccup was such an _attractive_ young man.

 

Grimmel felt he could indulge himself. There was no point in letting such a treasure go to waste.

 

Perhaps...if he ran tests, on other humans. To make sure the venom wasn’t lethal.

 

But Hiccup had no siblings. His father was dead. There would be no point testing on an unrelated Viking; Grimmel was a man of science and knew that things such a poison reacted differently on everyone.

 

He had a mother, didn’t he? That was a possibility.

 

He could always modify it, dilute it or mix it with something to dull down its intensity.

 

He’d think it over.

 

For now, this meeting was long overdue.

 

He walked in, slow, deliberate, his back straight and his arms folded behind his back.

 

Hiccup was awake, but he wasn’t struggling. Either the poor boy had worn himself out trying, or he was smart enough to recognise he’d be wasting his efforts.

 

He made a sort of grunting sound, and looked vaguely ill, still trussed up the way he had been when he was purchased.

 

“Oh, you poor _thing_ ,” Grimmel reached down, swiping his thumbs against the stretched, sensitive corners of his mouth, just to hear him whimper.

 

“I’m sorry for the wait. It has been a challenging few days. I trust you’ve, uhh, made yourself at home, yes?”

 

He looked at Hiccup’s tensed shoulder muscles, raw and aching from being held in the same position for so long, pulled behind him.

 

The Chief didn’t dignify that was a responsive sound, and Grimmel took a moment to appreciate just how _exhausted_ he looked. They hadn’t even started.

 

“Oh, I do so love having you muzzled like a beast. I’d like to keep you that way,” he paused, watching green eyes widen slightly.

 

“We could feed you through a tube, in your nose, or even, lodged down your throat. Wouldn’t that be interesting, eh?”

 

_This_ did get a reaction from him. He _snarled,_ feral sounding, teeth gnashing against the metal in his mouth, head tossing.

 

“At ease. Alas, I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright. We have much to discuss.”

 

With that, he carefully slid his blade between the strap and his cheek, before jerking it away.

 

Hiccup worked his jaw, a sound of pain slipping through his clenched teeth. His tongue probed the raw corners of his mouth, soothing it. It did look quite painful, and Grimmel watched with glee.

 

It was another fifteen seconds or so before the man spoke.

 

“What - what’d I do to piss a guy like you off?”

 

His tone was laced with a lame attempt at humour, contrasting his sharp eyes. The words were almost slurred, which was to be understood. It had been a few days since he’d used his voice.

 

“Oh, it speaks. How lovely.”

 

Grimmel chuckled as the Chief bristled.

 

“I jest, my dear. I thought you liked jokes, no?”

 

Hiccup didn’t let up on his gaze. His eyes really were something, large and intelligent, green flecked with gold. Rich, illustrious, exotic. Very nice.

 

“Look, I - I don’t know what you want with me. One of your henchmen kidnapped me from my own home! Just, just untie me, and - we can talk this out. Like men.”

 

The bargainer. The peaceful route. Interesting.

 

“Now why would I do that?” Grimmel asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his tone.

 

Hiccup bit his lip, looking vulnerable.

 

Then he sighed.

 

“Because, I’m naked, hungry, and tired. I’m hardly going to be putting up much of a fight. Having me all shackled up like this is just cruel. Might as well let me go, ah, my shoulder’s _killing_ me.”

 

That was true.

 

“You are correct. Even if I released your bonds, you’d still be ineffective against me. Your strength lies in your shoulders and thighs, both of which are, ah, considerably weakened, wouldn’t you say? And running off with one leg might be a challenge.”

 

A laugh tore its way from Grimmel’s throat.

 

Hiccup looked annoyed now, shaking his head pointedly to get the chain on his collar to rattle.

 

“Yeah well, now that we’ve established I’m basically useless, you wanna let me up? I’m seriously gonna be crippled for _weeks_ after this.”

 

Grimmel tilted his head, showing his teeth.

 

“No.”

 

The Chief groaned.

 

“You’re _killing_ me here! What do you want from me?”

 

Grimmel stood up, just to enjoy their difference in levels. It meant Hiccup had to strain his neck to look up at him.

 

“Nothing much. I just want to know a few things about your...hobby.”

 

“What, _dragon training?_ Gotta say, between your weird outfit, this dingy place and the fact that your guys called me a _dragon fucker,_ I didn’t really take you for a rider.”

 

“Well, perhaps you’d better reevaluate. I have no interest for your freakish connections with the beasts. I simply want to know how you managed to get a Night Fury to protect Berk.”

 

He gave the boy a deliberate look.

 

“And I certainly hope you haven’t fucked your dragon. You know Furies mate for life? A scrap like you would be ripped to shreds.”

 

Hiccup scrunched his nose up.

 

“Yeah, no, _gross,_ man. I don’t fuck my dragon, my dragon doesn’t fuck me. 'That clear? He’s my...accomplice.”

 

Grimmel paced the length of the room, feeling unnerved.

 

“Yes, but _why? Why_ would he stick around? They’re solitary creatures. Everyone knows by now that Berk is a cesspit, crawling with dragons and humans alike. He wouldn’t chose to live there, that much is true.”

 

“What can I say: he’s _sociable.”_

 

_“_ I don’t enjoy your tone, _boy.”_

 

Grimmel placed his foot against Hiccup’s right shoulder, applying steady pressure with his foot.

 

The man hissed.

 

“Ohhh-Kay, ouch, jeez. Sorry, _fuck_ that hurts.”

 

“That was my intention.”

 

Hiccup caught his breath, wheezing slightly.

 

“Look, Mr...what was your name again?”

 

“Grimmel. The Grisly. At your service.”

 

Hiccup’s eye twitched.

 

“ _Look_. Berk is a peaceful tribe. I am a peaceful Chief. We don’t like - confrontation. Just let me go, and my dragon will be less inclined to barbecue you. Or Astrid. Jeez, when she gets mad-“

 

“Your friends do not scare me, Chief Hiccup. Nor does your pampered little Night Fury. I don’t like what you’ve done with it, I must say. They are beasts, cold blooded and cold hearted. You have dressed him up in a saddle, groomed his scales with you own hands and tried to kid yourself that he’s anything more than a mindless killing machine.”

 

Hiccup flinched a bit, at that.

 

“Who stepped on your toes?”

 

He gave a shrug.

 

“You did, my dear boy. I’ve heard all about the trouble you’ve caused in the Dragon Trapping industry.” His voice turned bitter.

 

“ _Peaceful_ Chief, you say. You destroy livelihood, Hiccup. You ruin people’s lives, their family’s lives. And for what? Just because you're delusional enough to think that dragon _loves you,_ that he’s your _friend?_ You really have caused quite a lot of trouble, I must say. I think it’s time I put an end to it.”

 

Hiccup cursed as Grimmel pressed harder onto his shoulder.

 

“Gahh! So, so what? You kill me? Would that make you happy? Killing a Chief starts _war_ , Grimmel. You really want all of Berk and our dragons after you? Oh, and don’t get me _started_ our allies. The Berserkers would go, well, _berserk,_ if they found out.”

 

“Why? Because you let that idiot Chief between your legs? We’ve heard the stories, Mr Haddock.”

 

Hiccup flushed.

 

“What _is_ it with you and thinking I fuck everyone? I’m not a whore, Grimmel, I’m a - a _Chief_. I’ve helped Dagur out on more than one occasion. It took awhile to smooth things over, but I trust him implicitly.”

 

“Doesn’t change what you’ve let him to do you. The point is, Hiccup, you’re…well known, so to speak. In that regard.”

 

_“No_ , Grimmel, the point _is,_ killing me will make your problems like - a hundred times worse. So, so let me go, _now.”_

 

This did make him laugh.

 

“ _Kill_ you? Oh, no, I never said anything about killing you. You’re far too...entertaining for that. No, you may be a nuisance, Hiccup, but you’re far more valuable alive than dead.”

 

The Chief breathed out.

 

“That’s, nice to know, I guess. The comfort that you won’t kill me in my sleep is, uh, _heartwarming_.”

 

“Oh, you _are_ funny, aren’t you?”

 

“I try,” he replied dryly.

 

Grimmel’s face hardened.

 

“Unfortunately, humour has no place in a slave.”

 

The boy spluttered.

 

“Excuse me? I’m not - I’m a _Chief,_ dammit. That kind of talk can get you executed in some parts. Slavery was abolished generations ago.”

 

“Ah, but that’s what they thought."

 

Grimmel felt a grin spread across his face.

 

"Where _I’m_ from, it is still enthusiastically practiced. It’s an extremely rich industry.”

 

He paused. Hiccup was watching him like a hawk, eyes guarded.

 

“It’s pretty common, actually, for a Chieftain like you, young, headstrong, without heirs...do you know what happened, around ten years ago, to Leonard the Wealthy?”

 

Hiccup looked at him in disbelief, going very still. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and Grimmel greedily traced the movement with his eyes.

 

“He was killed in a volcano. A- a freak accident while away on business.”

 

His voice was uncertain, as if he was just now realising how unbelievable that story sounded.

 

“That’s what everyone wants you to think. The truth is, he was taken, drugged, probably. Branded, to strip him on his title, and sold off to some old freak in the Middle East.”

 

Hiccup breathing sped up.

 

“You’re not, that’s not - you won’t get far, my dragon can track the slightest scent-“

 

“You take me for a fool!” Grimmel exclaimed, agitated, his tone tethered between anger and humour.

 

“You’ve been washed, scrubbed down. Your clothes have been discarded, in the middle of the ocean. Any scent they get of you will lead them to a watery grave.”

 

It seems he was starting to understand.

 

“N-no, no, you’re not, you can’t…”

 

He began to tremble slightly, eyes widened in morbid horror.

 

“Just face it, my dear. I told you I would be _getting_ rid of you. Now, we just need a cover up story. That would have been a little easier if that idiot hadn’t taken you from your home. No matter. People are gullible. We’ll say you died peacefully no? Or maybe, we’ll say you got gnashed between the jaws of your very own dragon, swallowed whole in the middle of the night.”

 

He hummed, knowing full well that fib would never work, but he enjoyed watching how pale Hiccup had become.

 

“Oh, _gods_.” He whispered, and thrashed weakly.

 

“Yes, yes. Then perhaps, they’ll cast the beast out, and I’ll be there to end it’s miserable life.”

 

“Grimmel, stop! You don’t have to do this, just-“

 

The boy was breathing harshly, struggling.

 

His lip began to tremble, quivering, and for one brilliant moment, Grimmel thought he might cry.

 

Not yet. He steeled himself, took a deep breath. No matter: they’d have plenty of time for that. It would be more satisfying that way.

 

“Isn’t there - some kind of way you could let me go? I know there are anti-rider laws to the west. I’ll admit we haven’t always...stuck to those laws, and I’m sorry. I’d be - happy, to negotiate with you.”

 

He was getting desperate, they could both tell.

 

“Ah, interesting. Saving your own skin?”

 

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t you?” He spat back.

 

“My dear boy. It’s been a pleasure talking with you. Later, you’re going to tell me all about Berk’s defences. You’re going to tell me everything about your Night Fury. Then, well…”

 

He gave the young man a deliberate look.

 

“Just, stop. Okay, stop. I’m not - stop calling me a _boy,_ I’m 21 years old. Stop with these threats; my tribe are already tracking me down."

The boy's eyes were glued to Grimmel's, watching as he picked up the metal bit and advanced forwards. He tried to move backwards, but had nowhere to go.

 

"They - they might not have my scent anymore, but they’re perceptive. They’ll find me, and I tell you, they will _not_ be pleased when they find out- _gffah_!”

 

Grimmel was quick to muzzle him again, deciding their chat was over for now. He stroked a finger over his spread lips, tutting.

 

“Hiccup, Hiccup. That kind of talk isn’t desirable for someone of your... new position.”

 

He pinched the boy’s nose, just to watch him pant through his mouth, parting his lips wider to get air in around the metal. He gave a pitiful groan.

 

“Like a _dog,”_ He said. Before getting up, he gave the man a very deliberate smack to his rear. It wasn’t hard enough to be painful, more just degrading.

 

Hiccup’s brows knitted together in fury and he snarled, hips jerking reflexively. 

 

"I see now why the call you the _dragon boy_ , Hiccup. Listen to that growl! Positively feral, don't you think?"

 

Oh, such fun. Hiccup was so very intriguing. 

 

 

 


	3. Veins Filled with Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was really quiet without Hiccup. 
> 
> Astrid’s stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out, as she woke up from an uneasy sleep. Toothless was at the foot of her bed, sitting like an oversized cat. 
> 
> “Nothing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back?! I started this chapter ages ago, ahah, but just couldn't finish it. please, i cannot stress this enough, leave comments! i love reading them. xox

It was really quiet without Hiccup.

Astrid’s stomach seemed to be trying to turn itself inside out, as she woke up from an uneasy sleep.

Toothless was at the foot of her bed, sitting like an oversized cat.

“Nothing?”

The dragon gave a sort of rumbling noise that only Hiccup could _truly_ understand, but she got the gist of it, and she miserably held her hand out. Toothless trotted over, pushing his great scaly head into her palms, rubbing his scent on her. His body was stiff with tension, wings curled around himself like a large, fluttering blanket.

Gods, how had this _happened_? Where did he go? It truly was a mystery.

3 days ago, they had gotten back from their _Super Secret Dragon Rescue Mission_ to save a large host of shaken dragons from a group of shady trappers.

Everything had been fine, when they got back. Sure; the place was now a bit more crowded, but Berk was a big enough place and to be honest, she kind of _liked_ the swarmed feeling. It was just nice knowing that you could go outside in the dead of night and still find a pack of Terrible Terrors awake, digging little holes in the earth for fun. You never felt lonely, that was for sure.

Hiccup had stayed up late that night, kissing her hand before meandering off to his workshop to stay for the next eight hours, which was not unusual. He always got most of his inspiration in the night; being both an artist and a genius inventor meant that his mind didn’t wind down like hers did, it stayed buzzing, alive with ideas, until the man just could not stand it, deciding to rule out sleep almost all together. His best inventions, or so he’d told her, came from ‘ _the point in the night where the moon had just began to descend, before the sun could even think about rising again_.’ A slightly sleep deprived Hiccup was always a happy Hiccup, that was for sure.

The only trouble was, the next morning, he was gone. Without a trace.

At first she’d just thought that him and Toothless had gone to catch the early morning wind, as they so often did, but when an equally confused Night Fury stalked out from Hiccup’s hut, she became infinitely more worried.

Checking his workshop on the first morning only made her more confused. There were hastily scrawled blueprints that Astrid could only dream to understand, scraps of metal and leather littered around the place, and a sketch of a sleeping Toothless that made him look rather more _intimidating_ than he actually was. A tankard of drinking water was half-full, and his apron was neatly folded, draped over the side of the table. The only thing missing was _Hiccup_ himself.

The rest of the village, sans Valka, was completely at ease with the situation. Gobber had told her, rather happily, that she was in charge until the Chief returned. Which was fine; on the rare occurrence that Hiccup and Toothless went on a solo mission, she kept Berk nicely under control. But somehow, between the absence of Hiccup and the presence of Toothless, this felt extremely different from anything that had ever happened before. For some reason, the fact that Toothless was here and Hiccup was _not_ , wasn't sounding any warning bells in their head.

She got up, cleaned her teeth and washed her face, feeling a strange sort of hollowness settle in her chest. Though timid and shy, Hiccup had such a _presence,_ one that warmed the whole room, made you feel comfortable, and the absence of that for the past few days had been jarringly obvious.

She felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t completely innocent in all of this. She had been trying to block it from her mind, remove the slightest possibility that this may be her fault.

No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t stop thinking about the things she said to him, on that windy cliffside.

Her harsh words: ‘ _Yeah, I think we need a real solution, Hiccup._ ’

The - crushed look on his face, the way his eyebrows upturned slightly, the way he just, _agreed_ with her. Like he automatically knew that his own solution would be ridiculed and scorned.

It wasn’t that his idea of finding this _Hidden World_ was _that_ far fetched. It was crazy, sure, but over the years, she’d become used to his wild, creative mind, and she marvelled at it; he was untamable, eccentric and undeniably free. Something she felt she’d never be.

No, this particular idea, hit closer to home than she would have liked. Because no matter how much she _loved_ Hiccup, adored him, his achievements, and respected him as her Chief, that small, jealous part of her still held onto the fact that..it should be _her_. Ever since she could walk, before she could _talk_ , she’d been taught to lift an axe, to swing it. To lead people, to fight, to protect.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. She was pragmatic. The gold star of being the _best_ at everything, _beating_ everyone else, it just didn’t matter that much anymore. The only thing tying her to the jealous, selfish girl she had been, was Berk. And right now, she wasn’t ready to abandon it. This place had too many memories: too many times spent throwing knives in the woods, all by herself, when the other kids were playing, and Hiccup was hunting for _trolls_. Too many nights she’d cried into her pillow, trying desperately to reach her own impossible standards, standards which no one but _herself_ had. No one else cared. When she snapped at him, it was her own foul jealousy talking.

Because, after all that, after how hard she’d worked, the boy who found a Night Fury in the woods and didn’t have the _balls_ to kill it, led their tribe.

She felt like a monster. What was she _thinking?_ It was so draining to have two different thought processes, both with polar opposite views that clashed daily. It felt like she was fighting a battle in her head, against _herself._ She loved Stormfly, deeply. And Toothless too, for that matter, and all the other dragons. And Hiccup…he wasn’t just a useless fishbone who took the easy way out, choosing to spare the dragon’s life to save his own skin.

He was compassionate. His heart was just too big, and his soulmate, his _Hjarta_ , was a dragon. She knew, from the first time she saw them, saw the fire in Hiccup’s eyes when he _swore_ to protect him, that there would be no coming between them.

This was his solution, his hopeful, last ditch attempt to create a Utopia of dragon and humankind, and she had shut him down before he could even explain. Because of her own old skeletons, that refused to be buried.

She hadn’t even listened to him. She had just brushed him off.

She gave a shuddering exhale, looking down at her feet and extremely foolish.

To make matters worse, _‘Oh gods no, we’re nowhere near ready for that.'_

Just watching his expression crumple for a second, then straighten out as he regained his composure.

His face had flushed slightly, in embarrassment and _shame_ , as he rubbed the tops of his thighs in anxiety. His voice had been thick when he’d answered, defeated, self-loathing.

_“Yeah, that’s crazy.”_

Thinking of it now, her heart felt _heavy._ It was common knowledge, among their friend group anyway, that Hiccup had some pretty bad self esteem issues, stemming from his unpopularity as a child and somewhat, unconventional looks.

But it was more than that.

Astrid knew, it wasn’t just that he looked different to the average Viking, because over time, he had a sort of grudging acceptance at the fact that he was never going to be as strong as Eret, Gobber, or even Snotlout. He used his nimbleness to his advantage, agile where others were stocky and slow.

No, it was the heavy _weight_ of living in his father’s shadow. A year after Stoic’s death, it was still pretty fresh in his mind, trying to stumble his way through Chiefly duties, protecting his people, leading them, on his own.

What she had said to him, she could only imagine the _sting_ it must have left.

So, so maybe that’s where he was. Maybe he’d fled, in mortification, feeling as though he’d never be good enough.

She gave Toothless an uneasy pat, feeling his face tighten up, stomach churning with guilt.

Because to be honest, they _were_ ready. For marriage. They were stronger together, _always_ , in everything that they did. Sure, Astrid still had some old feelings to let go of, but who didn’t? She loved him, with all her heart, and he loved her. It wasn’t just that spark of attraction she’d gotten when they were 15, or the adolescent, hormonal lust they’d shared when they became adults. It was a _devotion_ , complete and utter trust.

She thought of him, now. She thought of that wild expression on his face, the lopsided smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, made his small little dimples peek through. His goofy laugh, his shaky voice, his jerky mannerisms, him, him, _him_. The dying sun, lighting up his hair in rich orange tones, reminiscent of his father’s fiery red, yet so different. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to feel his strong, steady arms around her, to touch him, to hear his voice.

“Oh, Hiccup,” She murmured to the empty air, the wind whipping through her hair and causing her eyes to water.

“Come back.”


End file.
